


aspects in absolution (stories that aren't theirs to tell, but are told anyway)

by ell (amywaited)



Series: aspects verse [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Cliche, Cute, Dating, Fluff, Fluffy, Getting Together, Kind of cliche?, M/M, all comfort, i dont know, i wrote this kind of quickly but i love it so, no hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 03:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/ell
Summary: peter doesnt think theyre dating. he reasons that wade looks abnormally pretty in the low light of clubs, and he looks abnormally pretty in the yellow-orange of early morning and the pink-red of late evening. he looks abnormally pretty under the stars, and under the fluorescent lights in the kitchen, and really, he looks abnormally pretty everywhere else.





	aspects in absolution (stories that aren't theirs to tell, but are told anyway)

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoy!
> 
> ps; this was supposed to be one of those aus where everyone thinks theyre dating except theyre not and then they are, only i dont really think it turned out quite like that.

Peter likes when they go out.

He likes watching the sky turn orange and purple and black and back again on the Friday’s when they’re out past sunrise, likes watching people twist their bodies to music he isn’t hearing, likes watching the lights draw patterns in the walls, watching lives be lived while he waits by the sidelines. 

He likes getting drunk enough to curl around Wade without any inhibitions, he likes watching blue and red light up his face, turning his features into some other-worldly phenomenon. He likes watching Wade, really, which should be answer in itself.

MJ laughs at him, swirling her straw through the radioactive cocktail she has her fingers wrapped around. “You should just kiss him!” she yells over the music, because that’s what she does.  Yelling and kissing and whirlpool-ing her way through his life.

“Kiss who?” Peter yells back, chasing condensation droplets down his glass with a finger.

“You know who, silly,” she tells him, grinning widely, wildly. She looks beautiful under the lights, everyone does these days. Painted blue and green and red, a collage of some sort. 

Peter scoffs. “You mean Wade? He’d never let me.”

She makes a face at him. “You’ll see,” she says. “If only you could see the way you look at him.” She taps the side of her nose twice and giggles, Her eyes tell stories that Peter couldn’t decipher if he tried, and it almost feels like there’s a double meaning to her words. He doesn’t feel much like figuring it out. Besides, she’s drunk. They all are.

MJ picks up her drink and kisses his cheek. Her lips are kind of sticky, with lipstick or cocktail, he can’t tell. She leaves before he can ask, anyway.

Peter finishes his drink soon after. His eyes pick her out in the crowd, dancing under three different colours of light. He sees Gwen and Harry too, dancing some kind of waltz. It doesn’t fit with the electric pop that’s playing in the club, but they almost make it work.

Wade is sitting on a windowsill, staring out through the glass. His face is painted red, mottled scars almost disappearing in the low light. He has glitter on his eyelids, enough that Peter can see it from across the room. He considers getting up to sit with him, but the song changes and a pretty lady takes Wade’s hand before he can. Wade goes with her, and Peter watches him buy her a drink.

A guy smiles at him from across the bar and Peter smiles back. He loses himself in play-pretend romance, and it’s almost like playing a part he doesn’t know.

 

* * *

 

 

The next week, Wade is still tipsy from the night before, and Peter is not. They curl up on Peter’s couch, sort of lost in a drunken haze but also sort of not. They watch all of the cars drive past out the window, making up stories for them. It’s not a date, but maybe it could be, and Peter doesn’t know if that’s wishful thinking or not.

It probably is, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. 

The light from the streetlamps illuminates Wade’s face, all soft glows and golden. It shines through the smudges of condensation on the window, blurring out into pools of light.

Wade points at a car and starts making up a story. Peter almost listens, but his brain isn’t receptive to the words. He watches Wade giggle to himself, watches his throat move and his scars pull as he talks. 

Some time into the night, he falls asleep on Wade’s shoulder and wakes up in front of the window. The sun makes patterns on the wall behind them, draws pictures on Wade’s skin. Peter watches them swirl before his eyes, and before long Wade is stirring as well. They sit in the kitchen and eat burnt bacon, drink the juice Gwen brought round the other day. It’s overwhelmingly domestic, in a way that almost makes Peter’s heart hurt, but in a way that is only good.

 

* * *

 

 

Sunday is a rainy day.

The sky is grey and cold, clouded over. Wade lets himself into Peter’s apartment and sops rainwater all over the floor, and Peter can’t bring himself to mind. He lets Wade use his shower and steal his hoodies and sop clean water all over the floor instead.

They sit, and they drink coffee that’s going cold, and they watch the telemarketing channels until the sky is more black then it is grey and Wade is falling asleep in his lap.

The rain provides a white noise that overlays Peter’s brain until he can’t hear anything but that and Wade’s steady breathing. He doesn’t think he’d rather have it any other way.

 

* * *

 

 

The first of the month is a busy day. Peter relocates to Gwen’s place for the day once Wade clutters through his doorway carrying several buckets of paint and an ecstatic looking MJ. She has blue paint on her nose already and she gets some on his sweater when she pushes him out the door, still half asleep.

He asks Gwen, “Why did I get kicked out my apartment this morning?” over steaming tea and cupcakes from the bakery at the end of her block.

She giggles. “Wade says he’s repainting your apartment.”

“I figured that, but why?”

“I don’t know,” Gwen shrugs, “guess he thought it needed a change? I don’t think anyone knows what that man is thinking any of the time, so I don’t know why you’d ask me.”

Peter hums. “I guess so.”

“You know, I’d say you’re probably the one who understands him the most,” she continues. 

“What?” Peter asks, “really? No, I can’t be.”

“Well, yeah,” Gwen says. She smiles, “you know, you would be. You  _ are  _ dating after all-”

“Dating?”

She pauses. The steam from her tea curls up into her face, blurring her features ever so slightly. “Yeah. You are dating him, right?”

Peter frowns. “No? Where’d you… Where’d you get that idea from?”

“You kind of act like a couple, Peter,” she says gently. “MJ mentioned it, and the way you look at him and he looks at you… it makes it kind of obvious. We all thought you were just figuring out a time to tell us so we didn’t mention anything.”

Peter sets his mug on the coffee table. “What do we… do… that makes us seem like a couple?”

Gwen smiles softly. “Well, he spends more time at your apartment then he does his, you hold hands all the time. You cuddle, you share food, you share drinks. You pay for him, and he pays for you. You share clothes, beds. You know each other’s orders for nearly every fast food place in a ten block radius.”

“But- but you and I do that stuff too,” Peter protests. “It’s just… bros being bros.”

“We don’t do that stuff to that extent,” Gwen says. Her eyes look all melty and soft, and Peter kind of wants to dive right into them. 

“You’re wearing my socks right now,” he says, some weak defence. He doesn’t know if he wants to admit to what she’s saying, because laying it all out like that makes it seems kind of obvious.

“I’ve never kissed you goodnight,” she says, soft and gentle like she always is.

“But we’re not dating,” Peter says weakly. “We’re not, are we?”

“Maybe you should talk to Wade about it,” she advises him.

“But he kicked me out of my apartment,” Peter says.

Gwen giggles. “It’s your apartment, stupid. You can go back any time.”

“Right,” Peter says, because she is. Except going back to his apartment feels like running a marathon or twelve, and he doesn’t know quite what he should be doing.

 

* * *

 

 

Wade kisses him for the first time on a Tuesday. 

The sun is high enough in the sky that’s golden, bathing them both in light that looks far too angelic, but it’s still early. Too early.

The clouds draw pictures across the sky and Peter draws pictures in Wade’s skin. He considers that life imitates art for a brief second, but it doesn’t matter all that much. Wade smiles up at him, breathes warm air across his stomach. Whispers, “can I kiss you?” and Peter says yes, and that’s kind of that.

Kissing Wade feels everything Peter’s been waiting for and everything he hasn’t. It feels like waking up and falling asleep all at the same time. 

The sun casts slivers of light across Wade’s chest, and Peter thinks he could live like this. He thinks he could live like this, and he thinks Wade wouldn’t have a problem with that.

**Author's Note:**

> i did the thing where i try to be cooler than i am. i dont know how well it worked but i do know that i dont hate the turn out. i hope that u didnt hate the turn out either.
> 
> please let me know what you think = my motivation for writing has been at zero for a while, and my confidence in my writing has dropped with it, which is why theres been something of radio silence recently. sorry. the last thing i posted (that was all me) was over a month ago, and for that i apologise.
> 
> id love to see you! ill see you in the next one x


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